In the Face of Truths
by hinoiri lwin
Summary: I mourned with him because I couldn't talk, I couldn't touch, I couldn't answer.


**I **n **t **h **e **F **a **c **e** o **f** T **r **u **t **h **s** | _in which he learns to accept the reality—or not _ | I do not own Kagerou Project

* * *

.

**.**

"I'm sorry." he said. Eyes downcast, lips forming a lopsided smile. He was trembling, and his posture slouched a little while his hands nested firmly on the fabric of his red jersey. Bitter smile painted his face, and I couldn't help but wonder how pale he looked that it's almost resembled the white of my own skin. He was looking at me—but I'm not, looking at him I meant My eyes were shut under my eyelid, so I could not give him the chance to look at my pair of caramel orbs. But I could see him—him and the tender face that I had never seen him wearing.

Not even once.

"Hey—" he paused, "—will you forgive me?" he asked.

I didn't reply, in fact; I didn't even twitch when he uttered the words with such broken, shattered voice. He welcomed the silence that came with a bitter smile, but then he started to laugh—a little though—and smiled again. This time it was a smile that was too wide to be considered real. A painted, askew smile that broadened everytime he ran his fingers between the dark tressess upon his head.

"I'm sorry." he said again, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry_." he began to chant and took my palm in his, "Ayano—" he paused, "I'm sorry… for everything."

_[For what? For what? Not your fault. Never yours.]_

"—I'm sorry, so… will you forgive me?" he kissed my palm once. Then twice, and rested his forhead at the base of our linked hands.

I cried without a sound when the heat of his lips covered my cold fingers. I did not answer him—I never did.

Silence fell between us, and I couldn't bring myself but dwell on the past for the umpteenth time again. I mourned with him because I couldn't talk, I couldn't touch, I couldn't answer. And when heavy silence answered him again, he began to laugh quitely and gripped my hand even tighter that I could feel the twitch of his throbbing veins upon my skin.

"Why wont you talk to me?" asked him with hoarse voice.

Silence answered him again, and he laughed. Again. He laughed even harder, even harshier.

"Talk to me, hey?" he said, "You can be angry. You can be mad. You can punch me—kick me, slap me—" he chocked on his own words, "I don't care, just—just—" he gulped down the lump inside his throat, "I don't care what will happen to me as long as you wake up and—"

He paused, and lowered his head down like he was ashamed, and for a few minutes he stopped talking—stopped begging, the grips on my hand loosened.

And for a split of second, I was convinced that he finally give up.

"Hey, I'm here."

Wrong.

"I just want you to respon to my voice. My touch. Anything will do. I just need a proof." the boy—_or man?_—whispered into thin air.

The hurt that laced his voice prickled my cold, frozen skin. But still—I couldn't answered him. I couldn't. _He needed to understand._

"Why?" he began again, "Why won't you talk to me?" he aksed while tears started to form like beads of crystal at the corner of his eyes.

"Do you hate me that much? Ayano? Please answer me. I—I want you to answer me. You can't kept on ignoring me like this, you know?" he laughed harshly, not aware of the trail of fat, broken tears that spilled over his ashen face.

_[I don't. I don't hate you._]

I wanted to convey those words to him. I wanted to envelope his body against mine. I wanted to brush away his tears and tell him that everything would be alright—that I was alright and everything would be okay.

_But I couldn't._

"Please—" he cried, "—please answer me. I'm sorry. I 'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry but please—_please_… wake up."

He begged and cried and screamed but I couldn't do anything to erase his pain. I could do _nothing_.

He was broken, so _fraglie_—so _weak_—and I couldn't help but blame myself for being the cause of his misery. It was my fault that he'd become like this. But now nothing mattered when there was still something that he needed to understand to keep on going. To keep on living.

He _needed_ to understand. I _wanted_ him to understand.

"Ayano…" he whispered.

_[Yes? I heard you, Shintaro. I heard you. I did. But at the same time—I didn't.]_

"Remember that evening when I… left you _alone_, on top of a hill, because you used to annoy me so much with your presistent demeanor?" the boy began to talk again, "I told you to go away and leave me be. And I thought you would. But instead of letting my hands go, you said—" he paused, "That you will never let go."

No. _No_. Shintaro please, _please_ stop this.

"But back then I didn't give a fuck about you and walked away like a coward that I am. Never looking back."

_[No.]_

"What… kind of face did you made that time, I wonder?" he laughed bitterly.

_[Please stop it.] _

"More than anything, I would like to undo the time and take back all those harsh words and actions that I gave to you. I want to redo all my mistakes. But I can't do that if you're not here, you know that right?" he talked as if he was being suffocated. His hot tears continuously hitting the tiles under his feet with a pitter-patter sounds.

_[I know. But I can't.]_

"And also—there's still something that I want to say to you. That I love you—that I'm in love with you. Ayano, please, I love you."

He's… _what_?

He said he loved me, I noted. He _loved_ me, I repeated. _He loved me_, I emphasized.

That Shintaro. That cold, _cold_ Shintaro loved Ayano. Bubbly, energetic, _stupid_ Ayano.

I paused for a brief of seconds, and then I felt like crying. In _happiness_—in joy.

_[I love you too, I love you too, Shintaro—I always am_.]

I wanted to say those three beautiful words back to him. He'd never known just how long I'd been waiting to hear those words exited from his mouth. Just how many times I'd imagined the day when he finally be rid of his fears and learn to love me. I loved you Shintaro, _I was in love with you_ from the day we'd met on that empty hallways by pure coincidence— until today. I loved you from the start, and I would never trade it for anything.

But it didn't matter anymore. Because I couldn't tell him—no matter how much I wished, no matter how much I longed to tell him I knew that it was pointless.

I wanted to hold him and never let go. But I couldn't, because it's already too late. I'd been gone too far to come back. There was no coming back for me. Not anymore.

_[I'm sorry, Shintaro. I love you. So, so much.]_

"I—I love you… so please—"

He needed to understand that a I was no more.

"Please—"

A corpse like me could no longer stay before I was nothing but bones.

"—wake… up… "

_[I'm sorry, Shintaro._ _But I'm already dead.] _

_[Shall we say goodbye?]_

_**.**_

_._

* * *

Author's note: I'm ashamed with myself. This is a version in which Ayano had died for real and Shintaro talk to her corpse as if she was only sleeping. A twisted kind of love, I know. Shintaro has a tendencies to ignore the harsh truth after all (sorry Shintaro *grin*). I love them both to death but the only thing that I can write after a long time is _angst_. I'm sorry minna-san, thanks for reading though :D


End file.
